


Coldhearted

by felsider (VSSAKJ)



Series: Eternal War: Birthrights [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSSAKJ/pseuds/felsider
Summary: You thought of your grandmother, widowed before you were born, and decided that if you were even half so strong as her, you'd choose who you spend your life with.





	Coldhearted

Your grandmother taught you to generate ice. She said that for generations, women in your family were blessed with cool heads and cool touches, and she encouraged you to focus until you could generate cubes of ice in your palm. Then you'd drop them in her drink with a bright grin and present the glass to her; she'd smile and tell you what a good child you are. Your mother didn't approve of your grandmother's influence over you, and argued with your father regarding it from time to time. You usually overheard, but kept your mouth shut. Your mother was jealous of her mother-in-law's ability to relate to you, you knew. You couldn't make yourself love your mother any more or less than you already did, but you could be a good daughter to her.

Before too long, you could make your palms cold without forming the ice itself, and offered cool drinks in your mother's salons with a silent smile. You listened, though—you always listened. They spoke of the war, despite the men of the house insisting they didn't; they spoke of their own homes, making a subtle contest of whose house was grandest; they spoke of their children, and which son of theirs might be suitable for you.

That's when you slipped out of the room, your heart beating heavily. You didn’t want to be married, not by their word and decision. They were all too foolish, simpering and babbling away without realising the implications of the matters they discussed. You thought of your grandmother, widowed before you were born, and decided that if you were even half so strong as her, you'd choose who you spend your life with.

 

You realised that you were in over your head when the king turned to you and took hold of your wrist, kissing up the inside of it. His lips were hot, and your bare chest pressed against his, and you ran a frost-tipped finger down his jawline; you're sure it's that motion, innocent enough so many times before, that prompted him to speak. He asked you if you could be his new queen. He said the kingdom would accept you, worship you even, if he only put a ring on just one of your marvellous fingers. He spoke seriously, and you heard all the weight behind his words.

You loved him, in your own way, but you couldn't be what he asked of you. You didn't love him enough to sign away all the freedom your status afforded you; you didn’t love him enough to stand as his equal and bear the scorn of the nation. Quietly, you declined. You told him your tastes ran too young and too wild—and oh how they did, as you sought any means possible to prolong your brilliant youth—and that you would never be happy if you swore yourself to him.

He said he accepted your decision, and asked you to leave him.

You never shared his bed again. The kingdom would have turned on you, promiscuous woman that you were, betraying their god of a king. He would have insisted you dry up your feeds of gossip, however useful that they were; he never made any pretense about the fact that he would have asked you to change. He never said it, but it was there.

You were lucky, you know. You were luckier still that he continued to tolerate your company, so long as it wasn't inappropriate. You held your weight with him still, though you did your best not to use it.

 

Sometimes, you lay cool fingers on your cheek and wonder what it might be like to be hot-headed. You wonder if you could know passion, and you wonder if someone could look beyond your assets and interests. You wonder.

**Author's Note:**

> In her canon, Helene is royal spymaster and trying, with the help of other trusted councillors, to hold the kingdom together in the wake of: the King's murder, the crown prince's disappearance, and the sacking of their capital city. It is not going spectacularly (but the crown prince returned on the eve of the sacking, so that's something).


End file.
